Twins
by SilenceoftheLlamas
Summary: The 'Twins' mini-series from 'Oneshots and Drabbles'.
1. Chapter 1

**From 'One shots and drabbles', I've just finally gotten round to compiling all of the related stories together. Sorry for the delay!**

* * *

Being the social mech he was, Jazz was starting to suffer slightly. He'd been confined to his quarters under Ratchets orders, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to evade his wrench – even with full mobility he couldn't – so he stayed in there.

On his own.

Bored out of his mind.

Now, being the thoughtful and caring bondmate he was, Prowl had decided to work from his quarters. However this meant that instead of Ratchet force-feeding Jazz the medical grade he needed to fight the virus, he had to.

"Jazz, don't be stupid. Just drink it."

"Meh tanks hurt." He pulled a pathetic expression. Prowl held back a sigh.

"This'll make you feel better."

"Ah purged last time."

"That's because it went down the wrong way."

"It takes like slag."

"You are being childish."

"Ah'm not drinking it!"

"I will force it down your throat."

"You wouldn't."

"Want to bet?"

Jazz pouted before he dramatically rolled over on the berth to face the wall.

"Ah'm tired."

"You can sleep after you've had this."

"Ah'll choke again."

"No you won't, I promise."

Jazz turned over and looked at him. "Ya can't promise that."

"I just did."

Jazz was about to retort when he felt a sharp stab of pain go through his helm. Prowl felt the echo through the bond, and placed the cube aside.

"Migraine?" He asked, climbing up into the berth with his mate. Jazz gave him a shaky thumbs up, one hand rubbing the side of his helm. Prowl sat behind him, and gently encouraged him to lean against him.

"This could have been avoided if you'd drunk the medical grade."

"Ah'd rather this than a bitter taste for joors."

"You're not going to get better if you don't drink it."

Jazz lay his helm back on Prowls shoulder and gave him a blank look.

"Meh point still stands."

"As does mine."

"Yer impossible."

"You're even worse." Prowl replied, gently massaging an audial horn. They'd learned early on that massaging Jazz's audial horn helped greatly with the pain from the migraines.

Prowl started pressing kisses to Jazz's helm, slowly making his way down to his faceplates. While Jazz was distracted, he swiped the cube up from the side and removed the seal. He gently tilted Jazz's chin up, prompting him to offline his visor and open his mouth slightly, expecting to receive a kiss, however instead of Prowls lips he was met with the edge of a cold cube and the vile taste of medical grade.

Prowl tightened his hold on Jazz's jaw, keeping him in place as he poured the medical grade into his mouth. All Jazz could do was flail his legs and swallow, visor onlining in shock. When the cube was empty, Prowl took it away and finally pressed a kiss to Jazz's lips.

As soon as Prowl loosened his grip on Jazz's jaw, Jazz whipped himself away and glared at his bondmate.

"Wha' was that for? Ah nearly choked!"

"It's a good thing you didn't then, isn't it?"

"Jus' ya wait 'till yet ill Prowler, Ah _will_ get ya fer that."

"I look forward to it."

Jazz huffed and rolled away from Prowl, back facing him. He sulkily pulled a thermal blanket over himself and offlined his visor.

"Goodnight, Jazz." Prowl said, kissing his helm as one would a child and getting off the berth, walking back to his desk to complete more reports. Jazz mumbled something in reply before falling into recharge.

* * *

**Requested by MoonWallker!**


	2. Chapter 2

Jazz hadn't been feeling great for the past two decacycles. He was absolutely atrocious when it came to visiting Ratchet and taking his medical grade, as discovered when he had his virus, so it was a fight on Prowls part to get him to visit the medic. He had started to complain about a funny feeling in his spark, being more tired and always feeling hungry, as if something was draining him constantly and Prowl was starting to worry about his mate.

Prowl sighed when he couldn't focus on his work. All he could think about was Jazz and how worried he was about him – it obviously wasn't 'nothing' as Jazz insisted, there was something wrong with him!

So today, while Jazz was recharging, Prowl had taken him down to the medbay. It was worrying that Jazz had allowed himt o do that, as usually he was a light sleeper and being picked up would result in a punch to the throat. As he had learnt. The hard way.

::Prowl, I think you'd better get down here.:: Ratchet commed him. He didn't sound grave, as if Jazz was in danger of dying, he just sounded a little miffed. As if he were annoyed over something.

This gave Prowl some warning for the wrench that sailed past his helm when the doors to the medbay opened to allow him access.

"You fragger!" Ratchet snarled, another wrench already at hand. Prowl gave him a wary look.

"How is Jazz?"

"Oh he's fine, just one small little detail you should know."

"And that is?" Prowl was starting to feel a little nervous. What was Ratchet so mad about?

"He's sparked."

Oh. _That_. Surely he'd heard wrong.

"Excuse me?"

"With twins."

Prowl felt all of his weight sink down out of his body though his pedes. Jazz was sparked? When did that happen – no, how?! They'd been so _careful-_

"Twins?" Prowl replied weakly, feeling his processor starting to protect. Ratchet nodded, lips pressed into a firm line. There was a reason the medic was so pissed – He liked to be _told_ when mechs were planning on having sparkling, especially considering he was the one who had to take care of them.

There was a distinct high-pitched whining noise, and Prowl promptly crashed. Ratchet sighed, picking him up and putting him onto a medical berth with the help of First Aid. Jazz was sat on another medical berth, watching the exchange with an expression of mirth. He was ecstatic. Sparklings! With Prowl!

Twins!

He'd always wanted to start a family with Prowl, however the war had put that plan on hold. They were in the high command – that made them targets already. A bonded couple? Even better. If one died, the other would follow. If one was tortured, so would the other one at no extra effort.

It was too dangerous to have sparklings.

This definitely changed things.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Jazz asked, walking over to the berth Prowl was in. Ratchet had hooked him up to something and was typing away on it, probably finding out what went wrong.

"He'll be fine. He's coming round now." Ratchet said, unplugging the device and glancing at Prowls face.

Jazz relaxed slightly – the crash wasn't that bad then. Before Jazz could excitedly greet him, Ratchet shoved a cube of medical grade into his hand.

"Drink it." He growled before looking at Prowl. "And you should know better than to fully merge with a high charge!"

Prowl looked at Ratchet blankly before slowly sinking back down into the berth and groaning.

"That wasn't a dream was it?"

Jazz quickly downed his cube with a grimace before piping up with a cheerful 'nope!' and hopping up onto the berth with Prowl. Prowl shifted to make room for Jazz, who snuggled up to his side.

Prowl could feel Jazz's feelings pour through the bond – happiness, admiration, love, nervousness and excitement. He felt bad about being so apprehensive over the thought of sparkling, however Jazz's excitement was contagious and soon Prowl felt himself warm up to the idea.

Ratchet had left them and given them some privacy while the black and white pair allowed the news to sink in.

"I told you that you should have seen Ratchet."

"Shh, you. Would'a been fine."

"You could have killed them, that is not 'fine'!"

"Ah was plannin' ta see Ratch today actually"

Prowl rolled his optics, sitting up and allowing Jazz to clamber into his lap, sitting across it sideways so that they were still facing each other. He nuzzled Jazz's audial horn, sighing.

"Don't ya want sparklin's?" Jazz asked, sounding worried. Worry and fear started to bleed through the bond, Jazz's excitement rapidly fading. Prowl pulled him closer, quickly kissing his forehelm.

"I'm glad there's nothing wrong with you. I thought you were ill again."

Jazz smiled, burying his face into Prowls shoulder.

The realisation that he was going to be a Sire suddenly slammed into Prowl. "I'm going to be a sire." He said quietly. Jazz nodded, grinning at him.

"Yep."

Prowl tightly hugged Jazz, sending al the adoration, love and excitement he could through the bond, kissing him passionately. Jazz returned what he could through the bond, and he was about to play with his mates doorwings before a wrench came flying over and smacked into Prowls helm.

"Not in my medbay!" Ratchet snarled.

Jazz laughed, jumping up from the berth and escaping, towing Prowl along behind him.

* * *

**Thanks to MoonWallker for requesting!**


	3. Chapter 3

To say that Prowl was excited would be an understatement.

He was having sparklings! With Jazz! He was having sparklings with the love of his life – who _wouldn't _be excited? Okay, maybe Red alert wouldn't be too enthusiastic (think of the security threats a sparkling was capable of) and it made them a _slightly_ bigger target to the decepticons but all of that waned in the fact that they were going to be creators.

Jazz was _itching_ to run around the Ark screaming that he was sparked, but Prowl kept a firm grip on his shoulder. He would most certainly _not_ be running around screaming. He'd excite the dinobots and Prowl was in too good a mood to deal with the idiots, who would without a doubt follow Jazz, even if they didn't know why he was so happy, and destroy everything.

Again.

"Aw Prowler, please!" Jazz begged, giving Prowl a pathetic look. He rested his chin on Prowls chest and looked up at him with a kicked puppy expression.

"No. We can't allow the base to be destroyed again; we need all the resources we have." He replied, tapping Jazz's chest. "Especially with the little ones."

Jazz nodded, absently rubbing his chestplates. A small smile broke out on his face.

"Ah'm a carrier." He murmured almost dreamily, his free hand seeking his mates and tightly clasping it when he found it. Prowl squeezed back, barely suppressing a smile himself.

"They'd better be cute. Primus damn adorable." Jazz said, looking back up at Prowl. Prowl laughed, nuzzling his mate.

"With you, they will be."

* * *

A carrying Jazz was not a happy Jazz.

His audial horns had been made more sensitive, and he couldn't stand to listen to loud music with a good beat anymore. That cut out at least 90% of his favourite songs. This also meant that any parties that were being held were out of the question for him.

This meant that Jazz had a very limited range of songs to listen to, or he had to face the silence. He didn't know how Prowl did it – it was driving him _insane_! Sure, he could stand the silence for _vorns_ on missions but he had to then. It was that or die, quite frankly, and Jazz was a big fan of living.

But this was different!

And damn, he really wanted some oil cake right now.

He was very tempted to call Prowl and ask him to get him some, however something told him that it was best to look in the kitchenette first, or he'd have a very peeved Prowl on his case.

He snooped around a little, opening up random cupboards before he spotted a cooling unit. He opened it and cheered – oil cakes! Yes!

He took one out, sitting crossed legged on the floor like a young child and started nibbling away on the sweet confection. Ratchet had warned them that Jazz would be suffering from cravings during his carrying period and it appeared that oil cakes were the answer.

Happily munching away, Jazz closed the lid to the cooling unit and relaxed. It also turned out that Jazz was a lazy carrier and didn't like to work too much. Prowl had to work for even longer now to pick up the slack. Jazz desperately tried to focus on his work so his mate wouldn't work himself to an early deactivation, but it was _hard_. One moment he'd be working on a report and the next he'd be fantasising about a nap, even if he'd just had one.

However, Optimus understood this. As a sire himself to a mech called Hot rod, he allowed Prowl to leave his office whenever he wished and late datapads were acceptable. For this, Prowl was thankful.

Not as if he actually took advantage of that though. Carrying mate or not, work was still important. Jazz did not like this mentality, but that was mostly his new and improved view of reports speaking. So when Prowl returned to their quarters, exhausted and ready to just flop down and recharge until he had to get up again, Jazz was quick to pounce and smother him with kisses. "Ah missed ya today." He said in between them. Prowl reached up and stroked the back of his helm, prompting Jazz to purr and lean into the touch.

It didn't take Prowl long to fall into recharge when he went to berth, Jazz following soon after.

* * *

It turned out that Prowls sire protocols had already kicked in.

There was a decepticon attack on a power plant, and as Jazz was still in the fairly early stages of carrying it was relatively safe for him to go out, provided he didn't take a kick in the chest or be on the receiving end of a hard blow. Being Special Ops, avoiding hits was a speciality. So, both black and whites rolled out of the base after their leader.

Soundwave had made the rather unfortunate decision to attack the Saboteur. Prowl did not like this. He definitely did not like this.

The battle drew to a standstill as the two faced off. Prowl was going nuts, kicking and punching any part of Sounwave he could get to. While to the outside world it looked completely random and frenzied, there was method to the madness. He was shredding up his joints to limit his movement so he couldn't attack or eject his cassettes. That was at least five decepticons now out for the count. While Jazz watched, a little shocked that Prowl was on the front lines using his body as opposed to being toward the back with his acid rifle, directing the others Megatron and Optimus shared a look.

"What the _frag_ is wrong with your Second in Command?" Megatron growled. Optimus couldn't reply with 'sire protocols' as that would raise the question of whom was sparked and so who were they meant to be killing. Instead, he settled with something far less dignifying.

"Bad mood."

Megatron gave him a look that told him he knew he was lying, however he didn't comment any further on it. He glanced back over to where Prowl was beating up his Third in Command and saw that Jazz was now trying to pull Prowl away as Soundwaves visor had gone dark. His optics narrowed slightly and he growled before swinging around and punching Optimus square in the face, knocking him back a fair bit.

He gave the order to retreat, picking up Soundwave and leaving with him. Prowl was still breathing heavily, doorwings flared aggressively and optics locked on Soundwaves retreating form. Clearly, Soundwave had just made himself a mortal enemy of Prowl.

Soundwaves energon was dripping down him, a few splatters on his face and chest. Most of it was on his hands, as he had used those to actually tear the joints apart, and it was now dripping onto the floor. Jazz had some on him from when he was pulling Prowl away so he wouldn't brutally murder the mech. He'd _never_ be able to live with himself if he did, and Jazz knew that.

"Ya really went ta town there, didn' ya?" Jazz said, wiping a splatter off of his face. Prowls optics dimmed and he pressed his face into the touch. He intertwined their fingers together, ignoring the feeling of energon in him joints, and turned so that his lip plates were brushing against Jazz's palm. "For you." He murmured. Jazz felt somewhat prideful and leaned forwards to press a kiss onto his face when the sound of Ratchet shouting distracted him.

The medic was making a bee-line towards Prowl, looking slightly pissed. Okay, he looked _very_ pissed. Incredibly pissed.

"What were you _thinking_?!" He shouted, giving Prowl a whack. "You could have exposed the fact your mate is carrying!" He hissed before facing Jazz. "And you! You should know better than to engage Soundwave!"

Jazz tried to explain that he literally didn't see him coming, but Ratchet shut him up by starting to inspect him and ran a few scans on him. Satisfied that Jazz was unharmed, he rounded onto Prowl.

He grumbled and growled, displeased at what he was seeing. "Have you turned off your pain receptors?"

"No."

Ratchet raised his eyebrows. Clearly, Prowl had an injury that should be hurting. A lot.

"You might want to. Once the buzz wears off it'll do more than sting."

"What will?"

"You've got a hole in your leg Prowl."

Two pairs of optics immediately looked down. Sure enough, there was a sizeable chunk missing from Prowls leg and energon was oozing out of it Soundwave had managed to land a hit. Surprising, given the speed Prowl was moving at.

"Oh."

Jazz squeaked, kneeling down next to Ratchet. "Prowler-!"

"Will be fine." Ratchet snapped, doing basic repair work on his leg so the energon stopped flowing out. "Don't even think about writing a report, I want you in my medbay the moment you're back on base."

"Of course."

Prowl was starting to feel the tingling pain of his leg and he winced a little. Wow. _Wow_. How didn't he feel that one?

Jazz looked slightly concerned, and was about to tell him to turn off the pain receptors until he was interrupted by their Prime telling them all to transform and return to base. The pair looked at each other before swiftly transforming and speeding away to the base after their Prime.


	4. Chapter 4

There had been no further decepticon attacks, and unsurprisingly no cassettes had been found in the base.

Jazz spent most of his time either curled up on Prowls lap while he worked or curled up under his desk. If he wasn't there, he was in his office trying to get some reports done.

As much as Prowl protested about Jazz cuddling up to him while he was trying to work, he didn't really mind it. It was rather nice, actually. It was just when he was trying to have a serious meeting with someone when it was distracting and he was adverse to it. He'd be halfway through a sentence when Jazz would start _purring_ and everyone would lose their train of thought and just stare at the mech on the tacticians lap wo was deep in recharge, snuggling closer to their mates frame. Primus help him when Jazz started _whining_.

Prowl tried locking him in their quarters when he had a serious meeting to attend to, but he had forgotten an important factor. There was no such thing as a locked door to a saboteur. Jazz would override the lock in a spark beat and run straight back over to Prowl, forcing himself onto his lap.

Fortunately, right now, the shift was nearly over and there were no more meetings. Ratchet had enforced that Prowls shifts were halved in length after Jazz's spark chamber started swelling from the new sparks. He'd need help getting around at this point, and he'd also need to be kept under a watchful optic as this was the most common stage for the body to reject it and the sparks re-adsorbed.

Helm tucked under his mates chin, Jazz sleepily asked Prowl a question that had been on his mind for a while.

"What're we gonna call 'em?"

Prowl hummed, absently stroking Jazz's hip. "I have a few ideas."

"Ah wanna call one Sweetspark."

Prowl nearly crashed on the spot. "We are _not_ calling _anything _that sorry excuse of a name."

Jazz laughed, shaking his head. "Ah was only kiddin' mech! Calm ya'self!" Prowl grumbled, signing something on a datapad before placing it on the 'complete' pile. Jazz nudged his chin. "So. Names."

"I am rather partial to Blues."

"Couldn't even imagine why" Jazz replied cheekily, Prowls engine rumbling in amusement.

Jazz's chest had swollen to accommodate the twin sparks alongside his own, and he was now finding it rather difficult to get up on his own. He was now a great source of entertainment, watching him wiggle his legs around like a ladbird on its back in a pitiful attempt to get up until someone took pity upon him and helped. It was always graciously accepted, and Jazz was keeping tabs on those who helped him and those who stood by and laughed. As soon as these twins were out, he swore he'd get his revenge.

Unfortunately, there were new chemicals being released into Jazz's body to help it adapt. These new chemicals made him incredibly emotional and it was often Prowl who had to comfort his mate until the hiccupping stopped and he could form a coherent sentence.

In one of Jazz's emotional outbursts, Prowl discovered the names of the mechs who had helped him so far and those who hadn't. With his new-found knowledge he decided to abuse his power as SIC and change the rotor so that those who had helped had the nice, pleasant shifts that everyone desperately wanted and those who hadn't had the shifts that everyone was desperate to change.

Patrol with Prowl was one such shift.

"Don't get them too beat up Prowlie." Jazz said, quickly kissing him before anyone saw. Prowl was still adverse to public displays of affection, and Jazz didn't want to push it.

"Tell that to the sire coding." He easily replied, affectionately brushing two fingers down his mates cheek before turning to observe the mechs surrounding them. It was a few breems before the start of the morning shift, so there were still mechs milling around, occasionally yawning. A couple of breems later, two mechs ambled towards Prowl. They nodded to him, standing to attention. Taking that as his invite to begin the shift, Prowl bade his mate farewell and the three transformed before they drove out of the base.

* * *

Prowl certainly knew how to make someone's life miserable. The lambo twins were notorious for opting to laugh and poke fun at others at their own expense as opposed to helping them when they needed it – Jazz, at the moment, was one of these mechs. As a result, they were constantly on patrol with Prowl. The twins weren't pleased with this at all. So, every night, they returned in a foul mood with a rather cheerful Prowl, which was creepy, and went straight to their quarters.

Pleased Prowl, happy Prowl.

Jazz enjoyed seeing his mate getting his own back in his own little way. As SIC, he couldn't abuse his powers nor could he throw mechs in the brig for what was considered 'stupid reasons' by the mechs aboard the _Arc_. As handler of the duty rooster, however, he had free reign of who did what and when. Optimus in all his kind glory turned a blind optic to it, remembering in vivid detail how it was while Ratchet was sparked with Hot rod. A lot of mechs and femmes were reluctant to help him in fear of getting a wrench to the helm – many already had, the Prime included. His main argument had been that he was sparked, not disabled.

Something like that.

Jazz had held a similar sentiment to begin with, however Prowl had confiscated his energon blades and other hidden weapons when he had lobbed one at Wheeljack after the scientist had asked him if he wanted a medical grade energon dispenser installed in his quarters so he didn't have to go to the medbay multiple times a day. This did not make the saboteur happy, but if Prowl wanted it he'd do it. Sire protocols made that mech _scary_.

* * *

Towards the end of Jazz's carrying period, Prowl had gotten more and more protective of his carrying mate. It had reached the point where Ratchet had forced him to take a medical leave after Prowl had nearly seriously injured a human who had gotten too close to Jazz for his liking. So, Prowl sat with Jazz in their quarters, doing his reports from there.

It was silent until Prowl received a comm. from Blaster.

::We're receiving a call::

::Who's it from?::

::I don't know. They're claiming to be a group of neutrals::

Prowl stood up. ::Are there any humans in the base?::

::Nope::

::I'm on my way. Don't do anything until I get there::

Prowl swiftly left their quarters after explaining the situation to Jazz, and ran down to teletraan-1. He nodded to Blaster who pressed a few buttons and the screen lit up with the faces of his and Jazz's Sire.

"Sire!" Prowl yelped, nearly stumbling backwards. He thought his sire was dead!

"It's good to see you, Prowl."

"How did you find us?"

"Through hard work and determination. Are we allowed to land?"

Several joors later, a shuttle was landing around a mile away from the Autobot base. Prowl was waiting for the new arrivals with Ratchet, Optimus and Ironhide. Jazz hadn't been told that his Sire was aboard as he'd _insist_ that he had to be there, and everyone knew that it would send Prowl haywire. Last week he'd shot an ant with an acid pellet for crawling on Jazz's pede. An _ant_.

Prowl was pleasantly surprised to see that both his Sire and Carrier were aboard. They ignored his protests about being hugged and both cuddled him, much to the other mechs amusement. Both of Jazz's creators left the shuttle along with a few other neutrals whom Prowl did not recognise.

"We won't stay for long. We're a little short on fuel." A neutral who appeared to be the pilot assured the Prime. Optimus nodded.

"Very well."

* * *

When Prowl returned to his quarters, Jazz was recharging on the sofa. Their creators were in the medbay getting checked out by the medical team to ensure they were all still in working condition, and they'd expressed their eagerness to see Jazz.

Because of the war, Prowl and Jazz had never actually gotten round to telling their Creators that they'd bonded, much less that they'd bonded to _each other_. Prowl wasn't sure how their creators would react to this.

None the less, they had to do it. He gently shook Jazz awake.

"Someone wants to see you."

"Who is it?" Jazz asked, tiredly rubbing his optics behind his visor. Prowl helped him stand and steadied him when he stumbled, not quite fully awake yet.

"Our creators." Jazz stalled before he looked up at Prowl.

"What?"

"They're paying Earth a visit while their ship gets refuelled and the repairs it needs. They want to see you."

Jazz was immediately scrambling towards the door. Prowl could feel his excitement flooding through the bond, and it was starting to batter him. "Jazz, could you tone it down a little?"

"Ah, meh bad" Jazz meekly replied, restraining himself. The pair walked down to the medbay and entered as Jazz's Sire was just finishing up his check up.

"Jazzy!"

Prowl had to grab onto something and hold tightly onto it to stop himself from lunging at Jazz's Sire, who had seen fit to launch himself at his creation. Prowl refused to give into the Sire protocols demands and protect Jazz because there was _nothing_ to protect him from, and clawing out an innocent neutrals optics was not on the top of his to-do list.

Everyone was staring at Prowl.

He awkwardly detached himself from what he had latched onto and tried to look normal, although his doorwings gave away his agitation. Jazz was trying his best to stop his Sire from giving him the hug he desperately wanted to and his optics kept on shifting between his sire and Prowl, making sure Prowl wasn't suddenly going to pounce on his sire and make them have a repeat of the Soundwave incident.

Prowls Sire, a mech called Viridian, was being checked up by Ratchet, and he was watching the black and white pair with a thoughtful expression. "Prowl, why didn't you tell us?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Jazz is sparked, isn't he." It wasn't a question – more of a statement. Prowl shyly looked down and nodded.

From the other side of the medbay Jazz's carrier, a femme called Rhythm, could be heard squealing. "Ooh that's lovely! Why didn't you tell us?"

Prowl felt his faceplates slowly start to heat up, but Jazz's Sire immediately stepped away from Jazz. Prowls doorwings relaxed slightly now that nobody was trying to touch Jazz. "We didn' know ya were alive." Jazz said, standing beside Prowl and massaging the area between both his doorwings with magnetic impulses. "If we did, ya'd be the firs' ta know."

"I hope not." Ratchet commented as he snapped a panel on Prowls Sires leg shut. "You're good."

Viridian hopped down and started popping his joints back into position. Prowls Carrier, a mech called Amethyst, glared at him, giving him a small slap. "Not so loudly!" he quietly hissed. Viridian just smirked and carried on, trying his hardest to make it sound even louder.

Ratchet restrained himself from throwing a wrench at the mech. If he popped a joint and he had to fix it…

"So, my guess is Prowl's the Sire?"

"Yup!" Jazz chirped, grinning widely. Amethyst clapped his hands together, optics glittering.

"So I take it you also bonded?"

You couldn't hide anything from your parents could you?

Prowl nodded and Rhythm squealed again, the medic giving her a check up looking a little nervous. He wondered if she had a few loose screws. "That's wonderful! I always knew you'd end up together!"

"It's a shame we never made a betting pool." Prowls Carrier commented.

Prowl growled, doorwings rising slightly. They'd already made a betting pool from when they were in the academy – Primus wouldn't have been able to save them if they'd betted on whether or not they'd end up _bonding_.

The medic had finished with Rhythm, and she happily trotted over to them. "How's it been without us?"

'Peaceful' was the first word to come to Prowls mind and he was about to voice this until Jazz shot him a harsh glare. He immediately bit his glossa. That was a glare that promised _pain_. Instead, he chose to go with the safer route.

"It's been different. Up until a few joor ago we all thought you were dead."

"I love your faith in us!" Amethyst chided, a small smile breaking out on their face.

"The 'cons did wipe out a lot of neutral groups." Jazz pointed out. "We thought tha' ya were part of 'em."

"Our group was, for the most part, destroyed. That much is true. We were very lucky to have survived it."

* * *

A few cycles later, their shuttle was fully repaired and they were preparing to leave. Jazz was getting incredibly emotional at the thought of his creators leaving again. He hadn't seen them since the war really started to heat up – even if you ignored the time he was in stasis, it was still a very long time ago.

Jazz was clinging onto his creators with coolant streaming down his faceplates, and Prowls Sire was clinging onto Prowl for entirely different reasons. Prowls doorwings had shot up into an aggressive v-shape when Jazz started clinging onto the other mech and femme, showing his displeasure. If Jazz weren't sparked, he would have been fine with it. They were his _creators_ for Primus sake; there was _nothing wrong_ with them at all. Sire protocols seemed to think otherwise and they were screaming at him to get his aft over there and beat them into the ground.

Eventually, Jazz's creators were freed and back into their shuttle along with the other neutrals. He was standing beside Prowl, trying to coax his doorwings back down into their neutral position while their Prime was given the shuttles personal comm. number. After being assured that they would contact them should the need arise, the shuttle took off and left, a white trail the only thing it left behind.

* * *

**Thanks to RagdolDark and Lair of the Twisted Muses for requesting!**


	5. Chapter 5

Jazz had just over one groon left in his carrying period.

Wheeljack, much to the delight of the medical team (especially Ratchet), had taken a break from his inventing and had constructed things for the twins to use, such as berths with rails (Sparklings had a habit of being adventurous and rolling around in their recharge) and some toys for them to play with so they wouldn't badger their creators for entertainment.

Jazz had now stopped wriggling onto Prowls lap and purring during meetings, and instead he was often found in the rec. room chatting to other Autobots and playing videogames with the twins. If he wasn't there, he was in his quarters watching a movie (he'd never admit it, but he would always fall into recharge and wake up as the credits were rolling).

Despite the fact Jazz had stopped with his tendencies, Prowl was not quite so lucky. Everyone had stopped counting after the 87465th insect. _Nothing_ was safe. Even if it was just within a foot of Jazz Prowl was quite literally pouncing on them and either crushing them or eradicating them completely by melting their soft bodies with acid. Even when Jazz told him to stop it and that he was being stupid, he still did it. He, quite literally, could not control himself. The humans who frequented the base had learned early on that they should avoid Jazz at all costs, even if they desperately wanted to talk to the saboteur. It was as if Prowl could _smell_ human on Jazz, and he'd be put into an awful mood for the rest of the cycle. An awful mood where he wouldn't watch where he'd tread.

Sideswipe swore that Prowl sometimes went out of his way to hover a pede over a human when they weren't looking, only to quickly spin away and continue in the other direction when someone looked. Red Alert wasn't revealing anything, so everyone just ignored Sideswipe. Ratchet wouldn't put it past him, though.

When he wasn't being overrun by Sire Protocols, he was his usual calm and collected self. He would spend his entire shift in his office, be chased out by an angry Ratchet, grab a couple of cubes from the rec. room and return back to his quarters where Jazz was usually recharging on the sofa or curled up on their berth with a datapad.

Today, it was the latter. Smiling despite himself, Prowl sat down next to him on the berth and took out a datapad of his own – he'd snuck a few datapads out of his office – before he handed Jazz an energon cube. Jazz's visor brightened for a split second at the sight of the cube, not having realised Prowl was back. He accepted it and quietly sipped at it as he shifted himself so he was leaning against Prowl, cuddling up to his side.

* * *

If the SIC an TIC of the Autobot army were to ever hear someone claiming they wanted twins, they would be quick to advise them against it. Looking after twins was no easy feat, and the pair were starting to admire Sunstreaker and Sideswipes creators after what they'd been put through.

When you had finally got one in their berth, you would turn around thinking that it was safe to go catch the other one. When you finally managed to catch them, you would turn back to their berth to see it empty.

If you left them alone for five minutes, you would return to find the room completely and utterly destroyed with things you didn't even know _existed_ littering the floor, and a pair of very smug-looking sparklings sitting amongst the wreckage.

When it came to feeding time, they would accept their energon before promptly spitting it out at the unfortunate mech who was feeding them or at their sibling. Failing that, they'd cover the floor with it.

All in all, they were little shits.

The Prime was no stranger to Prowl knocking on his door at three o'clock in the morning anymore. The datsun would look dishevelled and exhausted while carrying to twins on his hips, sometimes with an equally as exhausted Jazz. The pair would just silently look at the Prime with pleading optics and he would sigh, allowing them in so he could diagnose the problem and suggest ways to help.

Given that the Prime was one of the only creators on the ship, he was the one who was being constantly bombarded with questions in the dead of night. While he was happy to help and glad that they swallowed their pride and _asked_, it did get ridiculous.

However, despite all of their antics, the black and white pair loved them to pieces.

In addition to this, Prowl had received a comm. call from Starscream and his trine mates who immediately started asking about the sparklings. While Starscream pretended to be indifferent to it, he was the one who leaned in closer to the screen with a curious glint in his optic every time Prowl started speaking. Skywarp, was, as always, over-excited and was literally bouncing around in excitement. Thundercracker just watched him with weary optics and apologised to Prowl about his trine-mates behaviour.

It was from that conversation that Prowl learned seekers had an affinity for sparklings, no matter the faction. It was also how Skyfire came to be first on the baby-sitting duty list. He didn't complain, and he even asked to take care of them even when Jazz and Prowl weren't on shift. It appeared that Skyfire was a huge fan of them.

Jazz and Prowl certainly weren't complaining.

* * *

**There is one more part for twins that was inspired by a request from MoonWallker, but I can't say when that'll be out. My apologies!**


	6. Chapter 6

"Sire is going to _kill_ you."

A black mech laughed, walking away from the speaker. "He can't say anything. It's my body."

"Yes but he's our Sire! He's going to be _furious_ do you even know what you've _done_-"

"Oh shut it, Blues. What's the worst he can do?"

"Does Carrier know?"

The black mech didn't reply and carried on walking away. The speaker, a white mech with a bright blue visor, frowned and crossed their arms. "Reggae, you do realise what you've gotten yourself into, right?"

"Nothing I can't handle."

The mech rolled their optics and sighed, plonking themselves down on the edge of the berth. This was going to be an interesting fight.

* * *

Despite vorns of military training and experience, surviving countless battles and missions, and surviving living with Jazz, Prowl still couldn't stop his jaw from hitting the floor.

What.

Had.

He.

_Done_.

Prowl nearly dropped the datapads he was holding in shock as his creation walked in through the door.

There was a tattoo.

On his doorwing.

His _doorwing_.

"Reggae" Prowl growled, doorwings rising up into a 'v' shape, "what is _that_?"

"What's what?" He replied, casually walking into the kitchenette and grabbing a cube from the cooling unit. Prowl tightened his grip on the datapads, determined to not throw them at him.

"That _thing_ on your _doorwing_."

Reggae glanced back behind him lazily, flicking a doorwing so he could get a look at it. "A tattoo." He replied, casually sipping on his cube.

"I can see that." Prowl hissed. "What made you think that it was a good idea?!"

"I don't see any issue with having one."

"It's a tattoo on your doorwing – what are mecha going to _think_?! Couldn't you have gotten one somewhere a little more discreet?!"

"I don't see what the problem is! It's just a tattoo-"

"And it's on your _doorwing_. You know what I said about that!"

"And it's a load of bull-"

"_Reggae_!"

The mech flinched when he heard his Carriers voice, and turned around nervously to see the mech standing in the doorway, hands on hips and looking angry. "If that gets infected Ah wont be happy!"

"It won't."

Jazz stalked forwards, making Reggae back pedal a few paces before bumping into the wall. He'd been cornered by a mech shorter than him, how _humiliating_. Not that he'd ever word that – even if he knew his Carrier was a friendly mech he'd seen him on the field when he was _not_ a friendly mech.

"Let meh see it." He snapped, pulling on his shoulder to get him to turn around. Reggae complied, turning to show his doorwings to his Carrier and the tattoo. Prowl moved to stand beside Jazz too, silently marvelling his mates ability to stay relatively composed and not lob anything at their creation, and joined him in looking at the tattoo.

It had a certain lambo twins name written all over it.

"Sunstreaker." They both hissed in unison, turning slightly to share a look before Prowl nodded, deposited his datapads on the desk he was previously sat at and strode from the room.

* * *

Less than fifteen minutes later, there were two very annoyed twins sitting in the brig and a fairly annoyed Praxian giving them a very hard look before sniffing, turning around and striding away, pedes clicking on the floor much like leather shoes did. Yep – he was annoyed, and the twins wouldn't be getting out any time soon.

Ironhide, who had the joy of being on brig guard duty, muffled a snicker as Prowl went past, a gleeful gleam in his optics. He hadn't seen Prowl act like this since Jazz was carrying, and he was finding it to be incredibly entertaining. He still remembered what Prowl got up to, although he was smart enough to never, _ever_ bring it up in front of the mech. The week he had spent washing the washrack during the rainy season after the first time he did made sure of it.

He was surprised when Prowl came back in again, this time dragging along one of his creations by the audial. Ironhide internally winced in sympathy – it looked like it _hurt_. Reggae was pushed into a brig cell that was unlocked and open, and while he was busy righting himself and getting up off the floor Prowl locked the door.

"I will release you when I believe you've had enough time to think about what you've done." Prowl snapped before storming out again.

The look of terror on Reggaes face almost made Ironhides day, and it was almost a shame that he wasn't allowed to laugh.

* * *

**As requested by RagdolDark, I believe!**


	7. Chapter 7

**It's December and I'm excited for the snow I was promised.**

**That is my only excuse.**

**From now on, it's in no particular order!**

* * *

There was a thick layer of something white and very, very cold on the ground.

When Prowl looked out of the window as he woke up, he nearly crashed on the spot. What on _earth_ possessed someone to cover the desert in _sugar_?

He promptly realized that it wasn't sugar when his doorwings told him that the room was far colder than it usually was, and he shivered. No, it was snow.

That just brought up more questions, such as why it was precipitating _ice_ in a sweltering _desert_.

If his quarters were this cold for _him_, a big mech with thick armored plating, then how cold would it be for his twins?

Quickly but quietly getting up so as to not disturb the mech who was still slumbering away beside him, Prowl went into his creations room to make sure that they were okay.

Somehow, one of them had escaped their crib and had climbed in with their twin, dragging their blanket along with them, and the two were curled up together. As Prowl got closer, he could hear their plating clattering as they trembled from the chill.

Taking pity on them, he scooped them both up into his arms and returned to his own berthroom, depositing them both onto the berth so they could leech warmth from their creators. Almost instantly, they huddled closer to the mech already there, who was now awake.

"Did ya turn on th' air conditionin'?" Jazz asked, shuffling over to allow more room for his mate. Prowl shook his head.

"It snowed overnight."

Jazz balked, visor brightening in his shock. "But we're in a desert!"

Prowl simply shrugged, remembering the previous time this had happened. Maybe the Decepticons were up to something again? He hoped not.

* * *

Nobody wanted to get out of the berth – it was warm, there were plenty of blankets and pillows and it was comfortable.

Unfortunately, someone had decided that it was a great idea to throw a snowball at their window and had woken up the twins, who up until then were sleeping away soundly.

"Ah'll be back." Jazz grumbled darkly, clambering out of the berth and leaving their quarters to investigate what was going on outside.

Prowl could distantly hear the sound of something soft hitting something else that was much harder and sounds of surprise. Amusement was blooming from Jazz's end of the bond, and Prowl wondered what his mate was up to.

He didn't have long to ponder on this as Jazz soon came rocketing back into their quarters, snow clinging to his legs and hands.

"We've _gotta_ take 'em out there!" He said excitedly, bouncing on his pedes with his visor blindingly bright. "They'll love it!"

"Won't it be too cold for them?" Prowl asked, glancing down at the sleepy forms currently splayed out across his lap. They were refusing to move, much to Prowls annoyance, however he'd allow it for now.

"They'll be fine so long as they're not out fer too long."

Prowl nodded, finally relenting, and picked a whining sparkling off of his lap while Jazz picked up the other, quick to rub their noses together and keep them snuggled up against him.

The closer they got to the entrance of the _Ark_, the more interested the twins were in their surroundings. Reggae, who was currently being held by his Sire, watched everything with wide optics, every so often reaching out in front of him. His winglets trembled from the chilly air but it didn't seem to bother him much at all.

Blues was very much the same, visor bright, however he was holding tightly onto his Carrier and was very reluctant to let go.

Both instantly jumped when they heard the snow crunching under their creators pedes.

Prowl looked around at the winter wonderland before him, pushing the thought of just why it had snowed in the first place out of his mind. He could try to work that out later.

Jazz knelt down and carefully set down Blues, letting the sparkling cling onto his hand for balance as he sunk down into the snow. It was _cold_, yet somewhat enjoyable to walk in. Blues giggled, kicking at the fluffy substance and stumbling backwards into his ever-watchful Carriers arms. Reggae wasn't so careful, rocketing away from Prowl the moment he could, stumbling forwards. Prowl had already accounted for this, well aware of Reggaes… _rebellious_ personality, and stopped him from falling flat on his face.

Reggae huffed, winglets drooping in his disappointment. He wanted to run around and play with the new toy!

"Be careful." Prowl scolded, righting the sparkling before slowly taking his hands away, but keeping them close incase Reggae decided to be 'clever' again.

Blues was tottering away by now, walking towards a large mound in the snow. It was slightly awkward for him, considering the snow came up to his knees, but he eventually made it. Reggae saw that Blues was doing something by far more interesting than he was and instantly decided that he didn't like that. He quickly waded over, throwing snow up everywhere, before coming to a halt next to his twin brother.

They both began clicking as they inspected the mound, Reggaes winglets flicking a twitching this way and that as he tried to work out just what this mound _was_. Jazz and Prowl were stood next to each other, Prowl having wrapped an arm around Jazz's shoulder and Jazz Prowls waist. The pair were watching the two, affectionate looks on their faces.

When Reggae sneezed, he fell forwards into the mound and was promptly disappointed to find that it was simply a rock underneath all of the snow. Blues seemed to share the same sentiment, arms dejectedly dropping to his sides.

Not to worry, there would always be another time.

* * *

**The timeline for this will probably be everywhere, just a fair warning. I'll try to keep it reasonable.**

**~Llama**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks to Sslaxx for telling me I'd forgotten this one!**

* * *

The room was silent. The only sound that punctured the peaceful tranquillity in the room was the sound of Prowl tapping away at his keyboard, entirely focused on the data on the screen in front of him.

He didn't notice when the door opened with a swoosh, and he didn't hear the sounds of two pairs of tiny pedes hitting the floor as their owners waddled in. When the door beeped to signal that it had been locked again, Prowls attention was captured.

His optics swept the room but he saw no one there. He rolled his optics. He'd _really_ have to change the passcode on his door.

He stood up and looked over his desk and straight at a pair of black and white sparklings who were both holding onto the same datapad. They looked up at him with wide, bright optics. They had so nearly perfected the puppy eyes expression, which Jazz had seen fit to teach them.

While Prowl would like to think that he was a battle hardened warrior, he was incredibly weak to the puppy eyes expression. Seeing it on his sparklings faces while they clung onto a datapad, doorwings fluttering reduced him to putty.

Prowl sighed and resigned to the fact that they had, yet again, won without saying a single word.

"Very quickly."

Their faces lit up immediately and they rushed around the desk, stumbling and tripping over their own feet and the extra weight before they stopped at their Sires pedes, immediately thrusting the datapad towards him. Prowl took it and placed it on the desk before he picked the twins up and sat them on his lap. He onlined the pad and began reading it to them.

* * *

Prowl was late back to their quarters and nobody knew where his sparklings were.

Needless to say, Jazz was slightly worried. He could still feel them through their bond, and he knew they were all okay however he still felt compelled to go and find them.

He stopped outside of Prowls office and quickly typed in the code, hoping to find them in there, and stopped in his tracks as he took in the scene in front of him.

Both of the twins were curled up to Prowl, deep in recharge and clinging onto his armour. Prowl himself was still reading aloud, although it were almost a whisper, with the datapad in one hand and the other was lovingly stroking in between one of the sparklings doorwings.

Jazz couldn't help but smile at that, taking lots of video and photo captures. He decided to alert Prowl to his presence by slipping into the room, going over to his side and starting to read aloud with him.

Prowl jumped when he heard Jazz so close, and looked at Jazz with a shocked expression.

"When did you come in?"

"Jus' now. Ya shift's been over fer joors."

Prowls optics dimmed for a split second as he checked his chronometer and he nearly swore. "I didn't finish all of my datapads."

"Ya can do that tomorrow."

Prowl nodded, carefully scooping one sparkling into his arms while Jazz took the other and he stood. He decided that he would sneak out and into his office while everyone else was sleeping and get them done. He wouldn't be able to recharge if he didn't.

"An' don't ya even think about sneakin' out."

"What ever made you think I'd do that?"

"Ah know ya Prowler." Jazz replied, cheekily tapping him on the nose before dancing out of his office and down the hall towards their quarters. Prowl rolled his optics, subspacing a few pads before he left, and locked the door behind him.

* * *

**~Llama**


End file.
